The White Hills: Their Legends, Landscape, and PoetryScholarly Publishing Office, University of Michigan Library, 1864 - 424 páginas |
Termos e frases comuns
Abel Crawford afternoon Androscoggin artist ascend beauty birch blue Campton cascades Centre Harbor charming Chocorua cliffs climbing clouds color Crawford House crest curves dark deep distance dome drive earth Ellis River excursion fall forest Franconia Glen House Gorham grace granite grass gray green Hampshire height hues hundred feet Jefferson Kiarsarge Lafayette lake landscape ledge light lines look lovely lower meadows miles mists morning moun Mount Adams Mount Crawford Mount Hayes Mount Lafayette Mount Madison Mount Surprise Mount Washington Mount Webster Mount Willey Nature night North Conway Notch o'er pass path Peabody River peaks Pemigewasset purple rain ravine region ride ridge river road rocks rocky Saco scenery seemed seen shadow shores side slopes snow splendor steep stream summer summit sunset sweep tain thou trees valley village visitors wall White Hills whole wild wilderness Willey wind Winnipiseogee woods
Passagens mais conhecidas
Página 88 - And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days; Then heaven tries the earth if it be in tune, And over it softly her warm ear lays : Whether we look, or whether we listen, We hear life murmur, or see it glisten ; Every clod feels a stir of might, An instinct within it that reaches and towers, And, groping blindly above it for light, Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers...
Página 289 - Thou visitest the earth, and waterest it: thou greatly enrichest it with the river of God, which is full of water: thou preparest them corn, when thou hast so provided for it.
Página 6 - Why do those cliffs of shadowy tint appear More sweet than all the landscape smiling near ?— 'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view, And robes the mountain in its azure hue.
Página 168 - O hark, O hear! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Página 89 - The little bird sits at his door in the sun, Atilt like a blossom among the leaves, And lets his illumined being o'errun With the deluge of summer it receives ; His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings, And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings; He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest, — In the nice ear of Nature, which song is the best?
Página 152 - We will return no more;" And all at once they sang, " Our island home Is far beyond the wave; we will no longer roam." CHORIC SONG •"THERE is sweet music here that softer falls Than petals from blown roses on the grass, Or night-dews on still waters between walls Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass; Music that gentlier on the spirit lies, Than tir'd eyelids upon tir'd eyes; Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies. Here are cool mosses deep, And thro...
Página 197 - He brought me forth also into a large place; He delivered me, because he delighted in me.
Página 168 - Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.
Página 58 - The charming landscape which I saw this morning, is indubitably made up of some twenty or thirty farms. Miller owns this field, Locke that, and Manning the woodland beyond. But none of them owns the landscape. There is a property in the horizon which no man has but he whose eye can integrate all the parts, that is, the poet.
Página 125 - Hence, loathed Melancholy, Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born In Stygian cave forlorn 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy! Find out some uncouth cell Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings And the night-raven sings; There under ebon shades, and low-browed rocks As ragged as thy locks, In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell.